Animagus Wizard
by idk1444
Summary: Rewrite of Animagus Adventure. Malachi Crowley isn't only a wizard, he is also a natural animagus. Follow his journey through the wizarding world. AU starting at year 1 as Mal will be in the same year as Harry and the gang. Clearly this has an OC.
1. Prologue and Ch 1: Letters and Magic

**AN: This is a rewrite of my very short attempt at my first fanfic, so please be somewhat nice with reviews and criticism (constructive only please). If you read the first (partial)story, then obviously this is different. I am trying to fit Mal into the timeline to be in the same year as Harry and the gang and then to later, if I ever get there, to take part in the War. Now, as I am new at this and am a college student taking 19 hours this semester, please dont be mad at sporadic updates with lots of time in-between. I will do my best. If anyone read the first attempt and liked it better and wants to finish it, be my guest. Please, if you do, let me know as I'd love to read it. That's all for now. Enjoy! (hopefully)**

**Disclaimer: All things familiar belong to JK Rowling. All things new belong to me.**

**Prologue**

Malachi Crowley was not a normal boy; far from it actually. You see, when he was three he wandered into the woods near his family's home in Washington (the state, not the district) and came back nearly twelve hours later. He was completely unharmed and totally happy, except for one thing. In those twelve hours he had somehow gone from a slightly chubby three-year-old with light brown hair and hazel eyes to a small wolf cub with grey fur and hazel eyes.

Needless to say, his parents were concerned. After several hours of coaxing (and some scolding) they were finally able to convince their son that, while playing with the family dog might be more fun as a wolf cub, he still needed to be a little boy. There may have been a promise of mint chocolate ice cream involved, as well.

Over the next few years Malachi continued to transform into different animals, which, believe it or not, isn't always a good thing. Sometimes all he needed to do was look at or think about a certain animal, and then he was one. Changing back was rarely as easy. His parents, Patrick and Angela Crowley, soon decided that something would have to be done. Patrick Crowley was an expert in martial arts and had practiced meditation for the past two decades. After his four-year-old told him it was his inner desire to _be _the animals (I believe his exact words were, "But Daddy, I wanna be a wolf puppy!") that caused the transformation, he decided to teach him to discipline his mind in hopes that that would help him control his abilities.

Little Malachi's parents were afraid. They feared that if anyone found out what their son could do he would be hauled off to some government facility and treated like a lab rat. They warned him never to let anyone besides them see him transform. He only changed when his parents were watching, and _only _when they were alone in their home, which was several miles outside of town and free from prying eyes.

By the time Malachi was six he no longer transformed by accident and was attending a local elementary school. Unfortunately, said elementary school had faulty wiring and one Thursday afternoon the fire alarms went off. Malachi panicked, the blaring alarm hurting his over-sensitive ears and the smoke burning his over-sensitive nostrils. His animal instincts told him to run and the window was the quickest way to do so. Unfortunately said window was on the third floor.

Luckily no one saw the young eagle soar out the window and fly off in the direction of the Crowley home. When Patrick and Angela received a frantic call from the school saying their son had disappeared during a fire, they rushed home to find him sitting on the sofa watching TV (Animal Planet, if you were wondering). After hearing the full story from him they decided a change of scenery was in order.

While Patrick had grown up in Washington, his family was originally from Britain and he had inherited a small cottage on a good bit of land near Plymouth, England. It was fairly isolated and seemed the perfect place to start over.

Malachi was of course sad to lose his friends and the only home he'd ever known, but he was excited to begin a new adventure, as he saw it. He had always been exceptionally bright. His enhanced animal senses, which he kept even in human form (though not quite as strong), let him observe the world in a way few others could. That, combined with a nearly eidetic memory, made him even more extraordinary.

When he was seven Malachi decided to test his limits and see what he was truly capable of, so he started experimenting. After a few close calls, he realized it was much safer to know a bit about the animal he wanted to transform into before he actually transformed. Before long he knew more about almost every known species than most people ever did. He learned that the more he transformed and spent time in a new body, the faster he could transform and adjust. He began researching animal anatomy and physiology, as well as behavior and psychology. As an animal, he kept his human mind, but he also gained the mindset, senses, and instincts of whatever he transformed into. As a wolf (his favorite) he had high predator instincts and wanted to chase and be in a pack. As a rabbit he wanted to run and hide at every unfamiliar sound. He decided he much preferred predators to prey animals, because he felt stronger, safer. He also preferred birds or mammals to reptile or fish, because being cold-blooded was weird.

As time went on he wandered further and further from his new home. His parents let him go, recognizing the wildness inside of him and the need to be free. They only warned him to be careful and stay away from people.

It was great to be free and roam the forests with the animals, but Malachi was lonely. His parents had homeschooled him since the move to Britain, fearing another incident. His father taught private martial arts lessons at a studio in the city and his mother worked from home so she could stay with him. He loved his parents, but he missed being around other kids. When he was nine his parents finally decided he had enough control to reenter society; he hadn't changed on accident in nearly three years. He attended a local primary school for two years, making friends and laughing and joking like any boy should. The lessons always came easy to him, but he didn't mind. Life was good. Then everything changed on the day of his eleventh birthday.

**Chapter One: Letter and Magic**

On the morning of June 6, 1991, Malachi walked down the winding mile-long driveway—well really it was more of a dirt lane—to the mail box. The now eleven-year-old did this every morning, reveling in the cool fresh air and bright sunlight of the beginning of a new day.

When he got to the box he retrieved the usual post—bills, letters from distant family and old friends, a catalogue for some store he'd never heard of, and one unusual thing. At the bottom of the stack was an envelope of heavy parchment with his name written in emerald ink; there was no stamp and there was no return address.

Excited by the exotic letter, he raced back down the lane towards the house, hardly even realizing he'd shifted into a cheetah with the mail clamped in his teeth.

As soon as he got inside—once again human—he dropped the rest of the mail in the usual spot on the counter and sat at the small kitchen table to open his mysterious letter.

"What's that, Sweetie?" his mother asked from the stove where she was cooking breakfast.

"Don't know," he responded, studying the purple wax seal that held the envelope closed. Stamped in the wax was a coat or arms: a large letter H surrounded by a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake. He could smell several people on the letter and, strangely, some sort of bird, likely an owl but he wasn't sure. "Someone sent me a letter."

"Well who?"

"Not sure," he said, shrugging. "I don't recognize any scent or the handwriting and there's no return address, or stamp. I've never seen this seal before either." He continued to study the letter as if he was determined to figure out all of its mysteries without even opening it.

"Don't just stare at it and sniff it," said his mother. "Open it up."

He sent her a quick sheepish smile and broke the seal, hastily pulling out the letter written on the same yellowed parchment as the envelope. As he read his chin dropped lower and lower, his eyes widening in shock.

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL**

**of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDY**

**Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore**

_**(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)**_

**Dear Mr. Crowley and Family,**

**We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We understand that this must have come as a surprise and we would be happy to send one of our professors to come and explain everything at you earliest convenience. **

**I will be coming by your home on this coming Saturday at approximately 2:00pm to introduce you to the wizarding world, of which you are now a part. **

**Yours Sincerely,**

_Minerva McGonagall_

**Minerva McGonagall,**

_**Deputy Headmistress**_

The letter slipped from Malachi's limp fingers as he continued to stare, mind working furiously. _Is this some kind of prank? No, that doesn't make sense; this is too crazy to be a prank. But it can't be true, can it? Witchcraft and wizardry? Was this letter actually saying that not only is magic real, but there is a school where it is taught and he, Malachi—freak shapeshifter extraordinaire—was accepted? Without even applying?_

His mind continued to race and he didn't notice his mother coming up and looking at him concernedly. He came to his senses in time to see her pick up the letter and read. Her face went from worry to shock to disbelief as she read and reread the letter. Mal could literally hear her heart skip a beat. She sank into the chair beside him, still looking at the letter. They were both still sitting, silently staring, when Patrick walked in, looking to refill his coffee mug.

"Honey? Mal? What's wrong?" he asked, seeing them.

"Patrick," Angela said, turning to her husband. "Read this, please. I don't understand," she whispered, handing her confused husband the letter.

Patrick frowned as he read the letter. Malachi watched him and was surprised to see that, after the initial shock, his father's face showed understanding. Putting the letter down gently and sliding into the chair across from his son, Patrick sighed.

"I wondered if something like this might happen," he said, rubbing his face.

"Ever since he started transforming like that I wondered if it might lead to something like this." Sighing again he turned to his wife.

"We have to do what's best for Malachi, Angela. If these people can help him understand who he is, what he is capable of, then we have to see this through."

"I agree," she stated, after only a second's hesitation. Looking over at her young son, she smiled softly. "Well that's quite a way to start you eleventh birthday!"

Malachi grinned. "Yeah!" He was excited. Sure this was strange and a little scary, but he craved the wild adventure. Today was Wednesday, so in only a few short days he would finally, hopefully, know all the answers to the questions he'd had since he could remember.

Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, Head of Gryffindor House, and professor of Transfiguration looked down the long winding dirt lane and frowned, though you had to know her pretty well to tell the difference between her usually severe face and the frown.

It was fairly hot on this sunny summer day and while many seemed to enjoy such weather, the stern witch, with her Scottish roots and dressed in dark maroon robes, did not. She was tempted to apparate straight to the front door and be done with it, but knew the muggle family she was visiting would likely not appreciate such a bold introduction to the magical world. So instead she sighed resignedly and started off down the dusty lane.

Malachi stared up at the clear sky, deep in thought. Today was the day Professor McGonagall would come and explain about Hogwarts and magic. Today was the day he would finally understand. While Malachi had had many friends over the years, he had never truly fit in. Knowing that he could never trust them with his deepest secret, his true self, he had always felt like a bit of an outcast. Part of him, the solitary predator, was okay with that; another part of him longed for a pack, a pride, a flock, a gaggle, anything. He longed to belong and to truly fit in, and he hoped this was his chance. He breathed in deeply, savoring the fresh air and the smells of trees and flowers, grass and dirt, animals and…_She's here!_

As the breeze blew through his shaggy hair he caught the unfamiliar scent of an unfamiliar woman. There was something strange in the scent. It was different form a normal human, but Malachi passed it off as having something to do with her being a witch from a magical school.

He gracefully leapt from the branch he was resting on and dove headfirst to the ground, shifting his form as he fell so that a red-tailed hawk glided down to the ground in the direction of the house. As he neared the ground he flapped his broad wings once, almost lazily, and turned upward, making himself parallel to the ground. As he did so he shifted again, this time to a medium sized grey wolf. Without breaking stride or slowing at all, he ran full-out across the meadow that his home was in. As reached the back door he heard a firm knock at the front of the house and his father moving to open it. A few feet from the door he slowed, rearing onto his hind legs and shifting back into human form, again without breaking stride. Just as he reached the door his mother called through the open kitchen window, "Mal, the professor is here."

"I know, Mom," he said as he walked in, closing the door softly behind him.

"Just checking, Sweetie," she replied, smiling softly and giving her son a reassuring pat on the shoulder. He returned the smile, but she could tell he was nervous, just as she and her husband were.

"Everything's going to be fine, Mal."

McGonagall reached the front door of the small, but cozy-looking cottage. Taking a moment to collect her thoughts, she raised a hand and knocked. She heard a brief muffled conversation, then footsteps heading toward the door. The door opened to reveal a tall man, slim and fit-looking, who appeared to be in his mid-thirties and was wearing jeans and a t-shirt (_Amazing what these muggles wear, _she thought). He smiled tightly, clearly anxious about the meeting.

"Professor McGonagall, I presume," the man asked, closely studying the strangely dressed woman. "I'm Patrick Crowley, Malachi's father," he said, extending his hand in greeting.

McGonagall nodded in return, accepting his hand and shaking in firmly. "Yes, I am Professor Minerva McGonagall. A pleasure to meet you, Mister Crowley."

"And you as well," he replied. Opening the door wider and stepping back to allow her through he said, "My wife, Angela, just went to call Mal. Please, come in and sit down."

McGonagall nodded again and was ushered into a bright sitting room. There were two couches, set against the walls in the corner, and several comfortable looking armchairs spread out in front of them. The room was fairly open and the two outer walls were mostly made up of large, floor to ceiling windows, which were all open to bring in the cool breeze. McGonagall sat on one of the couches while Patrick took an armchair.

McGonagall looked around the room with mild curiosity, as she always did when exposed to muggle homes. She was a half-blood, but had been raised primarily wizard and that had been some time ago, so the newer muggle devices always fascinated her, though not to the level they did Arthur Weasley.

Patrick studied the stern looking professor before him. _Well, she certainly looks like a witch!,_ he thought to himself, with a small smirk. The somewhat older woman—perhaps in her sixties—wore a long, almost robe-like dress that covered everything save her head, which was topped by none other than a wide-brimmed pointed witches hat that matched the dark maroon of her strange dress. He could also glimpse sturdy boots on her feet, made of some unidentifiable leathery material. She had graying black hair, pulled up into a bun, which only served to make her appear even more sever, and small rectangular wire-framed glasses perched on her nose. He smirked again, _no warts, at least._

Professor McGonagall was very aware of being studied by Mr. Crowley, but took no notice of it. This was not her first time meeting with the muggle parents of her students, and she was well used to the stares and questions that accompanied such meetings.

After a moment, the door across from where McGonagall sat opened to admit Mrs. Crowley—_Angela, _she reminded herself—and the young Mr. Crowley, her newest muggleborn student.

Mrs. Crowley was about medium height and had hazel eyes and a warm smile to match her son's. The boy, a bit tall for his age, looked somewhat scruffy, as if he'd just been playing outside. But he was dressed nicely enough in dark tan pants and a green plaid shirt. He was quite tan, as if he spent most of his time outside, and looked just as nervous about this meeting as his parents, but his eyes also glittered with a barely contained excitement that she had seen in many muggleborn's eyes in her years as a Hogwarts professor. To so many of them the chance to go to Hogwarts meant, for the first time, a chance to finally fit in and to be understood by their peers and teachers as they never had been before; a chance to thrive.

Smiling—for the first time, Patrick noted—McGonagall rose to shake hands with Angela and Malachi.

"Oh, it's a pleasure to meet you Professor McGonagall," said Mrs. Crowley, smiling brightly. "Thank you so much for coming to explain all this."

"Likewise, Mrs. Crowley," replied the professor. "And it's no trouble. We always send someone to introduce the new muggleborns to the magical world." At this point Malachi jumped in.

"What's a muggle?" he asked, excitedly. "Is it someone without magic? Like my parents don't have magic, so they're muggles and I do, so I'm a muggleborn?" he went on, practically bursting with curiosity?

"Malachi," warned Patrick in a firm voice, looking pointedly at his son. The boy looked startled for a moment before realizing his mistake.

"Oh. Sorry, Dad." Turning back to McGonagall he said, "Nice to meet you, Professor McGonagall," as he extended his hand. McGonagall allowed a brief smile flit across her face as she accepted the eleven-year-olds offered hand.

"It's nice to meet you as well, Mr. Crowley."

Introductions finished, they all sat down, this time with the adult Crowley's on the couch opposite McGonagall and Malachi in the armchair his father had just vacated.

"Well then," started McGonagall, "I assume you all have questions."

The Crowley's exchanged glances, wondering what to ask first. Malachi was bursting with questions, but was content to let his parents go first. He was pretty much set on Hogwarts anyway. How could anyone pass up the chance to go to a magical school and learn to be a wizard? What he was wondering was if there were others in the magical world like him, and if any of them went to Hogwarts. He was also wondering why Professor McGonagall smelled so strongly of tabby cat. Finally, it was Patrick who broke the silence and asked the first question.

"So, this Hogwarts is a school for magical children," he asked, "like Malachi?"

Minerva took a moment to recover from the fact that the first question wasn't something along the lines of, _Are you insane? My child is not some magical freak? Explain yourself at once!_ Those were the usual sorts of first questions. She recovered quickly however, and nodded.

"That is correct, Mr. Crowley."

"Patrick's fine," he murmured distractedly. "But how did y'all even know about Mal? That he's…magical?"

"Well, Patrick," she answered, "Hogwarts has a way of detecting magical children and all of those in the United Kingdom are sent letters, such as the one you received, on their eleventh birthdays, inviting them to attend. Most of our students are born to magical parents, or at least one magical parent. Those born to muggles—and yes, Mr. Crowley, muggles are non-magical folk—are sent a professor such as myself to explain." She paused here, judging their reactions.

"Well, that clears that up," said Angela, smiling. "Would you like some tea Professor?"

"Thank you, Mrs. Crowley. That would be lovely."

"Oh, call me Angela, Professor," she replied, going into the kitchen.

Seeing his chance, Malachi jumped in with his first question. "So, what kinds of classes are taught at Hogwarts? Is it a boarding school? Where is it? How do the students get there? What do you teach, Professor?"

"Mal, calm down," scolded Patrick half-heartedly. Malachi gave his father a brief apologetic glance, but said nothing, looking back at McGonagall expectantly.

Before McGonagall could answer, Angela returned with a tray carrying four glasses of ice tea, a pitcher of the same, a small bowl of sugar with a spoon, and saucer with sliced lemons. Malachi smiled as he enjoyed watching yet another non-American be completely baffled by his mother's tea. Angela was originally from Texas and refused to drink hot tea in the summer. She often forgot that most people in the United Kingdom did not share that belief. Holding back giggles, Malachi walked the professor through adding sugar and lemon to her tea and watched as she drank, smiling when she declared the beverage delicious. Finally, she got back to Malachi's many questions.

"That was quite a few questions, Mr. Crowley, but I shall do my best to answer them all to your satisfaction." Taking a breath, she went on, "First off, yes, Hogwarts is a boarding school. It is located in Scotland and the students arrive by train, which departs from King's Cross in London on September the first." She went on to list all the classes taken by first years and explain a bit about each, mentioning briefly that she taught transfiguration. Then she went into a bit more detail about Hogwarts, explaining the four houses and enjoying their stunned expressions when she said Hogwarts was housed in an actual castle.

_Happens every time, _she thought gleefully.

When she mentioned the Forbidden Forest on the school's grounds, she did not miss Malachi's face brightening and the mischievous gleam in his young eyes. She went on to explain, rather sternly, that the forest was most definitely off-limits of all students and very dangerous. She also didn't miss that this barely fazed the boy.

Minerva went on answering the Crowley's questions for a good half hour. All the questions were ones she expected and had answered a million times before. When the rate of the questioning began to slow, she was about to set up a time to meet the family of three in London to accompany them to Diagon Alley, when she noticed something. They had another question, a big question, but were all three hesitant to voice it. Years of experience teaching students and meeting with their parents told her that, of the three Malachi was the most eager to ask, but also, strangely, the most afraid, and Patrick and Angela were equally eager but their eyes shown with a parent's concern for the safety of their child.

Many parents worried that the magical world was too rife with dangers for their precious children, but Minerva had the feeling this was something different, something beyond general fear of the unknown. This family had a secret, a big secret, possibly one they had kept for years, and now they were considering her. Perhaps it was something about Malachi's accidental magic. But no, she had already mentioned that and they had seemed unconcerned. Just when she was about to ask, the youngest Crowley spoke up, but what he said was nothing like what she was expecting.

"Professor," he started cautiously, "you said you teach transfiguration, right?" At her nod he continued. "Is it possible for a wizard, or a witch, to change into an animal?"

_Well that was unexpected, _she thought. But, she noticed how tense the three of them were, as if their—no, Malachi's—very life depended on her answer. Confused, she answered, "Yes, Mr. Crowley, it is, but it is a very advanced form of transfiguration." She paused, taken in their intent stares as all of their attention focused on her. "A witch or wizard who can transform into an animal at will is called an animagus. Each animagus has a specific animal that they can transform into and that animal must be registered with the Ministry of Magic, our government. To achieve the animagus transformation, one must spend months, sometimes even years, in intense study and meditation. Even after that, it takes years to master the transformation. Very few witches and wizards ever achieve this."

Seeing the boy's look and confusing it for disappointment, she went on, "You seem to be an exceptionally bright and diligent student, Mr. Crowley. I'm sure, when you're older, if you put your mind to it you can achieve the animagus transformation." This did not have the reassuring affect she was hoping for.

Malachi thought for a moment, staring off into space as he went over everything he now knew about the wizarding world and the professor before him, who he was now sure was a cat animagus. He trusted her, despite only knowing her for a few hours. Also, as a transfiguration mistress, she would be most likely to know of others like him and maybe even know something about his gift he had yet to discover. With these thoughts, he decided. He wanted to tell her.

Malachi looked to his parents, who had always told him to keep his secret, to never tell anyone. He knew they were considering it as well. They looked at each other for a moment, communicating silently in the way only a married couple can, before turning to their only son.

"Malachi?" Patrick asked, wanting his son's opinion.

The eleven year old nodded. "I trust her," he said. "She's a master of transfiguration and an animagus and I just trust her," he went on, trying to explain why he wanted to tell her. His parents had been great all these years, but they had never really understood what it was like for him. How it felt to have a wild, untamable, animal side to himself and to be constantly afraid and alone, wondering if he would ever fully understand or be understood. He _needed _to tell someone, to get answers.

After a full minute of staring at his son, then another full minute of once again silently communicating with his wife, Patrick finally made up his mind.

"Professor," he said solemnly, "there's something we think you should know about Malachi."


	2. Wizard and Animagus

**Chapter 2: Wizard and Animagus**

Professor Minerva McGonagall studied the solemn family in front of her. Clearly, whatever it was they had to tell her was important and, at least to them, a giant secret that was closely guarded. She had been through this many times over the years. Muggle families often thought their witch or wizard child's magic was something to be hidden. This family, however, had up until this point seemed very accepting of magic. She couldn't begin to imagine what they were hiding. Perhaps some rather strange or impressive feat of accidental magic?

Finally, tired of waiting for them to speak, she just asked. "What is it you would like to tell me about your son, Mr. Crowley?" Not surprisingly, it was the youngest Crowley that answered. Minerva often found the magical children were much more willing to accept magic than their non-magical parents.

"Maybe it would be easier to just show you," offered the now nervous eleven-year-old.

"Very well," she answered, turning her gaze to the boy. "What is it you would like to show me, Mr. Crowley?" Malachi nervously chewed his bottom lip, considering. He wasn't scared to tell the professor, but it was hard to finally share the secret he had kept as long as he could remember. Finally, he came to a decision.

"Let's go outside." Malachi stood and led the way through the kitchen and out the back door, followed by first his parents and then an increasingly confused Professor McGonagall. Angela stopped Minerva with a gentle hand on her shoulder while Malachi walked a bit further out, stopping about ten feet in from of the three adults.

"What's…" Minerva started to ask, but was cut off by Patrick.

"Just watch," he said softly, then he nodded to Malachi.

Mal grinned. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then jumped. It looked like he was about to dive right into the ground but as he fell his body rippled and suddenly he was a grey wolf. Minerva's breath caught. This eleven-year-old was an animagus. She was about to say as much when the wolf took a few bounds and then rippled again, becoming a buckskin stallion. Minerva could hardly breathe. Next the stallion reared up and launched itself into the air, shifting yet again, this time into a sleek falcon. The falcon soared through the air, diving and gliding in wide loops. It swooped towards a large tree, looking like it would land on one of the limbs, when instead it became a ring-tailed lemur, swinging through the branches. Finally, the lemur launched out over open air, transforming for a brief second into an eleven-year-old boy. Minerva heard Angela gasp beside her.

Malachi hung in the air for a moment, thriving in the pure joy of it, before gravity took over and he plunged toward the ground in a swan dive, gracefully shifting back into a falcon as the ground raced up to meet him. He leveled out and glided parallel to the ground back in the direction of the three watching adults. He pulled up, then when he was nearly vertical, shifted back into a young boy. He landed lightly on the ground, flexing his knees a bit to absorb the impact, a huge grin on his face.

"Malachi Nicodemus Crowley!" scolded Angela, her hand to her still rapidly beating heart. "What have I told you about pulling those ridiculous stunts? You could have broken your neck!"

"Sorry, Mom!" Malachi said cheerfully, clearly unashamed. He turned to the professor and his face turned serious. McGonagall realized all three Crowley's were now watching her expectantly. She cleared her throat.

"Well, that was definitely unexpected, Mr. Crowley," she said.

They returned to their previous seats in the living room before another word was said. McGonagall studied the boy in front of her. She noticed for the first time how tan and fit he looked and how he moved with a natural, untamed grace. He seemed restless, but she couldn't tell if it was from nerves or if he was just naturally this energetic. After a few moments all her thoughts were in order.

"Malachi is what we call a natural animagus," she began, slipping unconsciously into her teaching voice. "Most animagi are not, obviously. A witch or wizard can become an animagus, but the process normally takes several years of intense study and discipline. These witches and wizards have only one animal form, one that they cannot choose, but that is a part of them. All animagi and their forms are registered with the Ministry of Magic." She paused here to let that soak in.

Taking a breath, she went on, "A natural animagus, however, is said to be able to take any animal form." She frowned. "Honestly, you all most likely know more about natural animagi than I do. A natural animagus has not been recorded in over 300 years."

Malachi's spirits had risen when the professor knew what he was. A natural animagus! That sounded so cool! They fell a bit when she had so little explanation for him, but he was still ecstatic to finally know that he wasn't the only one. Sure, there hadn't been anyone else like him in centuries, at least not that the professor knew of, but there had been people like him! He wasn't some freak of nature of fluke. He was a natural animagus. His good mood was destined to be ruined by the next thing the professor said.

"Malachi," she started softly. He immediately knew by her tone that he wouldn't like what she said next. "It would be…advisable to not let your abilities be known by the general public."

"What exactly do you mean, Professor McGonagall?" asked Patrick, concerned.

"Unfortunately, the wizarding world, much like the muggle world, can be untrusting of anything different or unknown. Because a natural animagus has not been heard of for so long, there may be many who would see Malachi as not fully human."

"I'm sorry," Angela said. "What do you mean by 'not human?'"

"There are individuals in our world who suffer from various...issues that render them not fully human. For example, several years ago we had a student attending who was a werewolf." Seeing their shocked looks, she hurried to explain. "Not to worry, he was perfectly safe. Precautions were taken so that the rest of the school was safe on full moon nights. However, it was never made known to the rest of the school, except for crucial faculty and I believe a few of his friends, that a werewolf was at the school. This is because many in our world have a prejudice against werewolves and others they consider 'dark creatures.' This is for no other reason than a fear of something they do not understand." She turned to fully face Malachi.

"There are some, Mr. Crowley, who will think you dangerous, simply because they do not understand you." Malachi's face fell. "This does not mean that you are dangerous or that you cannot attend Hogwarts." She said, trying to reassure him. "I simple mean to say that I believe it would be best if you did not tell anyone of your abilities, at least not until you are sure you can trust them." Malachi reluctantly nodded his head in understanding. He knew all too well that some people would not understand. He had been hiding his whole life. He had been hoping, though, that Hogwarts and the magical world would be different.

_Oh well, _he told himself. _It may not be perfect, but it will be better! I will get to learn magic and make friends and maybe, when I'm sure, I will tell them!_ Resolved to make the best of the situation, Malachi cheered up a bit for the rest of the talk with his future professor.

They discussed at great length and decided that, while they would not tell anyone of Malachi's gift, he would be allowed to transform and roam the grounds (though not the Forbidden Forrest), as long as he was careful not to be seen, and he would be allowed to tell his friends he deemed them trustworthy and loyal enough. McGonagall did insist that he tell them when and who he informed. He agreed, happy to finally have people besides his parents know the real him. She also told him she wanted him to have private lessons with her once a week to learn more about his gift and possibly learn to transform into magical beasts. That put a huge grin on Malachi's face and he agreed readily.

They had also discussed Hogwarts a bit more, since that was the original purpose of the visit. Malachi learned all about classes and ghosts, rules and quidditch. He couldn't wait. They were also given several pamphlets designed to introduce muggles and muggleborns to the magical world, one of which had a list of suggested books that Mal hoped to purchase in Diagon Alley.

Before the professor left She made plans to meet them in London the following Tuesday to go to Diagon Alley. The Crowley's were all looking forward to it, Mal especially as the professor said there would be other muggle-born students with them.

The Crowley's waved goodbye, then sat silently in the living room together, each lost in their own thoughts.

**AN: Okay, ya'll have been great so far with reviews, very encouraging. Unfortunately, I have chronic writer's block. I really want to keep going with this, and I have what I think are some great plans for later in the story, but I'm having a bit of trouble getting started. So, I have some questions for my few but great fans. What I want to do is have Malachi take part in the war that takes place in 5th-7th year of HP, and I have some cool ideas for that, but the first four years are giving me trouble. Should I glance over them and do a sort of overview, or would ya'll like me to go through the first four years and have Mal interact with everyone? I want to stay pretty close to cannon for at least the first four years. What house should Mal be in? Should he be friends with Harry and the gang or hang out in the background? Good or bad Draco? Good or bad Snape? (BTW I'm a huge fan of Snape so bad/cranky/complete bastard Snape might be hard for me to write). If anybody has any other suggestions, please let me know. Or, if you think you can write it better, feel free, just let me know so I can read it. Thanks again for the reviews!**


	3. Trains and Hats

**Chapter 3: Trains and Hats**

Malachi waded through the dense crowd, pushing a trolley that held his new trunk and flanked by his parents. They were all anxious and, at least in Malachi's case, excited. This was only their second foray into the wizarding world. The trip to Diagon Alley almost two months ago had been quite the adventure. The world of magic was truly an amazing place, if somewhat terrifying. Malachi, ever the exuberant and curious eleven-year-old, ran off no less than nine times, leaving his parents in a panic and Professor McGonagall with a worried frown, only to show up ten minutes later, grinning from ear to ear and talking non-stop about his latest discovery in the magical world. The adult Crowley's knew their son could never truly become lost, even in such a busy and unfamiliar place as this, with his animal senses, but they still worried. Eventually they had managed to gather all of the necessary supplies, including a beautiful nine and three-fourths inch ash wand with a dragon heartstring core. McGonagall had mentioned he could get a pet to take with him as his familiar, but Malachi declined. He had never been comfortable with owning an animal when he longed for the freedom they could never have. He loved playing with animals in the wild, but he could never keep one cooped up as a pet. After the memorable trip, Malachi spent the last weeks of summer reading through all his Hogwarts textbooks, as well as some of the extra books his parents had bought him as birthday gifts. They were mostly about the different species of magical animals.

And now here they were on Platform 9 and ¾. The Hogwarts Express, crimson red and gleaming, standing proudly on the tracks and students old and new boarded to journey to another year of magical education. Patrick Crowley helped his son load the heavy trunk, full of all he'd need for the coming school year, into the luggage car of the train, before pulling his son off to the side of the crowd. He kneeled down in front of him so they were at eye-level, and placed his hands on the boys shoulder.

"Malachi," he said softly, smiling gently at his only child, speaking quietly to be sure only Malachi, with his enhanced hearing, would be able to hear, "I know you are excited. I know you are hoping this is your chance to finally be yourself and to make true friends and to learn what you can really do…" he trailed off, looking for the right words. Malachi waited patiently, knowing that what his father had to say was important. Patrick took a deep breath and met his son's eyes, expression serious. "I want all of that for you, but please, Son, be careful. I know you are tired of hearing that, but we worry about you. You're so strong and independent and wild," here he mussed his son's messy hair playfully, "but we still worry. Please, Mal, promise me you will be safe, not only with your transformations, but with everything. All of this is so new to us. Be watchful. Use your head. You have good instincts, Mal. Listen to them. And if you ever need us, just write us with one of those owls and we'll be there in a heartbeat, even if we can't see the blasted castle."

Malachi smiled warmly at his father and threw his arms around him, hiding his face in his father's strong chest so no one would see the tears in his eyes. Yes, he couldn't wait to go to Hogwarts, but he'd always been with his parents, always had them when he needed help or advice or just a hug. He was ready to go, to make friends and learn magic and, hopefully go on a few adventures, but he would miss them.

Angela also told Malachi goodbye and hugged him, but it wasn't as serious. He hugged them both one final time before throwing his backpack, which held a few books for the train ride and some wizard money for snacks, over his shoulder and boarding the train. He turned to wave to them as the trained pulled out of the station, then went to find a compartment.

Malachi was not enjoying all the people. Sure, he liked people, but large crowds had always bothered him. Too many voices and smells and sounds and sights. He could hardly block it all out enough to focus. On the train was better than the platform, a little quieter without all the parents and younger siblings crying and wishing students farewell, but the students were still pretty loud, and their voices bounced around the enclosed space of the train like a hundred bouncy balls all thrown at once. And they all had a different scent. And about half of them had a familiar of some species or another, some of which Malachi didn't recognize.

He suspected they were, at least in part, magical creatures, like kneazles, because their scent tingled in his nose a bit the same way McGonagall's and every other magical living thing he met had. They smelled of magic. It was subtle, barely noticeable, but it was there. Malachi had actually noticed it a few times before he got his Hogwarts letter, on friends at school or random people in the park or on the street, or even the occasional stray cat or wild owl. He'd always thought it was just coincidence, but then after meeting McGonagall and going to Diagon Alley, he'd noticed that everyone magical had the same nose-tingling smell—magic. He was even starting to notice that it was stronger in some people and animals than others; maybe that meant they were more powerful and had more magic? He was also starting to notice the same scent, barely, on some magical objects, like his wand.

As he wandered down the train, trying not to sneeze as his nose got used to all the magic floating around and pushing down his animal side that said it was _too_ crowded and _way too_ closed off on this train, he looked for a compartment that was empty, or at the very least, less crowded and not full of boisterous older students throwing spells at each other or staring at a giant spider (_Definitely a _Theraphosa apophysis_, but much larger than it should be_, thought Malachi as he walked passed the open compartment with the giant spider. _And also magical¸_ he mentally added as he caught the smell).

Finally, near the end of the train, he found a compartment with only one boy, who was so small he must be a first year. He was staring quietly out the window, lost in thought. Malachi knocked softly on the door, not wanting to startle the other boy. When the boy turned towards the door, Malachi slid it open about half-way.

"You mind if I sit in here?" he asked. "It's a bit crowded up that way and I'm not real big on crowds, you know." The other boy nodded, smiling slightly, and gestured for Malachi to sit in the seat across from him.

"Thanks," Malachi said, opening the door fully to enter the compartment, then sliding it closed behind him. He sat down across from the boy and there was a moment of awkward silence where they both just stared at the other. Malachi noticed that the boy's black hair was even messier than his and his bright emerald green eyes were partially hidden by thick, heavy black-framed glasses that were held together by tape in several places and cracked a bit in the lenses. Finally, Malachi extended his hand to the other boy and said, "I'm Malachi, by the way. First year." He smiled a bit, trying to be friendly, but really he wasn't all that good at meeting new people.

The boy hesitated for a second, then slowly reached out and shook Malachi's hand, as if he wasn't sure what to do.

"I'm Harry," he said softly, so soft Malachi wasn't sure if he could have heard it were he not _gifted_, as McGonagall had called it. "I'm a first year too." He returned Malachi's smile and released his hand. As he turned to glance back out the window, Malachi caught a glimpse of a jagged scar on his forehead, mostly hidden by his bangs. Malachi had bought a book on recent magical history in Flourish and Blotts, and there had been a chapter on the infamous Lord Voldemort and his downfall, so he knew about the famous "Boy-Who-Lived," Harry Potter. There had even been small pictures of the elder Potter's in the book. Looking at Harry, Malachi noted that his green eyes matched those of Lily Potter and the messy black hair and glasses were definitely similar to those of James Potter.

The book had said the "amazing miracle child" had gone to live with muggle relatives after that Halloween, so Malachi figured Harry hadn't known much more about the magical world than he did. Not having grown up hearing about the "Great Harry Potter" he wasn't intimidated by his extremely famous travel companion. Maybe they could be good friends, both coming from muggle homes and all.

"I'm a muggle-born," started Malachi, hoping to get a conversation going. "What about you?" Harry hesitated again before answering.

"Umm…" he started in that same soft voice, as if he were afraid of being too loud, "My mum and dad were wizards, well a witch and a wizard, I guess, but they, uh, died…when I was real little, so I grew up with my aunt and uncle and cousin, and they're muggles, so not muggle-born but, uh, muggle-raised, I guess." As he finished he sort of trailed off and looked down, embarrassed by his jumbled explanation, Malachi thought, or maybe just really really shy. He had met a few kids like that in school.

"Oh," Malachi said, not really sure what to say next but wanting to keep the conversation going. "So…did you...um….did they know you are wizard? I mean, have you always known about magic and Hogwarts and all that? Or did they not know about it?"

"Um…I think they knew, at least I know my aunt did, 'cause my mum was her sister and she went to Hogwarts, but…" Harry hesitated, a hurt and somewhat angry expression on his face. "They never told me," he finished quietly. For a moment, Malachi didn't understand why Harry seemed upset that his aunt hadn't told him about magic, but then, when he thought about it, he figured he'd be mad too if it turned out his parents knew he was magical all along and just didn't tell him.

"Sorry," he offered, not really knowing what else to say. "I didn't know about magic before either," Malachi said. "Neither of my parents has magic and I never knew I did until I got the Hogwarts letter back in June, on my birthday. But it made sense, you know? With all the…accidental magic, I think is what McGonagall called it." Harry nodded, happy to be off the subject of his family.

"Yeah," he said, grinning. "When Hagrid came to bring me my letter I almost didn't believe him, but then he asked if I'd ever made anything happen when I was upset and I remembered all the freaky things I'd done, like turning my teacher's hair blue and somehow getting on the school roof and setting that snake free at the zoo…," he trailed off, as if he realized he was talking too loudly and being too excited. Malachi was starting to worry about his new friend a bit. He seemed happy and excited about magic, but wary, as if he wasn't sure if he was allowed to be happy. Malachi had noticed him glancing around, nervously, a few times and he flinched a bit when some of the other students yelled or shouted out in the corridor. Malachi decided not to worry too much about it now. He had the whole school year to get to know Harry.

"Wow!" he exclaimed, ignoring Harry's nervousness. "That's wicked! What kind of snake was it?"

"A boa, I think," answered Harry. "My cousin, Dudley, was being a prat and banging on the glass. He knocked me down and I got mad and then the glass just vanished and…" he grinned "…Dudley fell in the tank and the boa came out and then the glass came back and Dudley was trapped inside." Both boys started laughing.

"That'll show him!" laughed Malachi.

"Yeah, and then the boa started hissing at people and slithered away. I think I heard him say he was headed for Brazil," Harry said, thoughtfully. He didn't notice Malachi stop laughing and stare at him. "I hope he makes it."

Malachi could not speak with animals, but he sometimes wished he could. He knew most weren't intelligent enough to actually have language, but some, he thought, had some very interesting things to say, especially magical animals, who seemed more intelligent by far. When he was an animal, he could communicate the same way they did with each other, through sounds and body language, and that got the point across. But to actually speak to an animal, with words, was amazing. His eyes widened. Maybe Harry was kind of like him.

"Harry, did you say you heard the snake say something?"

"Yeah, we talked for a bit before Dudley came over, and then when he left he said something about going to Brazil. I think that's where his family was." Harry finally realized Malachi was staring. "What?"

"That's so cool! Have you talked to other animals? Or just snakes? What do they say? Oh, that is awesome!"

Harry grinned, enjoying the other boy's excitement.

"Just snakes," he said, seeing Malachi's face fall a little. "And I've only done it a few times. Do you think other wizards can too?" Malachi thought for a minute. He wasn't sure about other wizards, but this seemed a lot like what he could do, like it was rare and maybe, like his gift, some people would be scared. Knowing Harry was already a little nervous, he didn't want to worry him, but figured it was better safe than sorry.

"That's really cool Harry. I've always wished I could talk to animals. But, um, listen. I think you should be careful who you tell about that. When Professor McGonagall came to tell me about Hogwarts, she said some wizards have…rare gifts and that scares some people, because they don't understand, so, and this is only sometimes, they hurt the people with the gifts." Harry's eyes widened and he looked terrified. Malachi could smell the fear coming off of him and hurried to reassure him. "But don't worry, Harry! I'm sure it's fine. Just, you know, don't tell anyone you don't trust. And I promise not to tell anyone either. Friends keep each other's secrets, right?"

"Friends?" asked Harry, as if he'd never heard the word before.

"Well, yeah," said Malachi. "I thought we were friends now, aren't we?" Maybe his people skills were worse than he thought.

"Do you want to be friends?" he asked, almost afraid of the answer.

Harry beamed at Malachi like he was the first friend he ever had.

"Yeah," he said, still smiling.

"Good," answered Malachi, returning the smile.

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. There was a tentative knock on the compartment door and it slid about half open to reveal a lanky, red-headed boy with a face full of freckles and blue eyes.

"Sorry," he said, apologetically. "Do you mind if I sit here? Everyone else it full."

Malachi and Harry both nodded, and the new boy came in and sat in the seat next to Malachi. Along with the boy came a flurry of new scents: the scent of the boy, his clothes and shoes, other people, some food (corned beef sandwiches?), and…an animal—a rat. But something was off about the rat. He definitely smelt of magic, but also not entirely of rat. Malachi shrugged it off for being just a magical rat that spent all its time with wizards, and pushed the thought out of his mind for now. He offered his hand to the new boy.

"I'm Malachi," he stated, smiling. He noticed the boy kept glancing over at Harry, then looking away quickly. Perhaps he'd recognized him.

"Ron," he introduced himself. "Ron Weasley." Ron turned to Harry.

"I'm Harry," he said in his quiet voice. "I saw you and your family coming onto the platform, remember?"

"Oh, right, yeah."

"Are your family all wizards, then?" asked Malachi.

"Yep," answered Ron. "Well, I think Mom's got a second cousin or something who's a 'countent' or something like that, but we don't ever see him." Ron seemed to come to a decision. "Are you Harry Potter?"

_Not very subtle, is he, _though Malachi as he looked to see what Harry would say. He'd already concluded that his new friend was the famous Harry Potter, but he hadn't brought it up, figuring he wouldn't like it much if everyone he met asked him about his dead parents.

Harry's face reddened and he shrunk in on himself a bit.

"Yeah," he responded.

Ron's face lit up like it was Christmas morning. He took a breath, likely to ask another question, but Malachi cut him off.

"Ron, what can you tell us about Hogwarts? I'm muggle-born and Harry's muggle-raised, so we don't really know much." Ron, delighted with the idea of explaining everything he knew about Hogwarts and the magical world in general, began enthusiastically speaking. Harry shot Malachi a grateful look, and Malachi returned it with a small smile.

Ron kept talking for the next half hour or so, pausing only to answer questions and when the snack trolley came by. Harry and Malachi bought some of everything between them and split it between the three of them, leaving Ron's corn beef sandwich off to the side. Malachi and Harry were both impressed by the magical jumping chocolate frogs, as well as the cards with moving pictures that came in every box. Malachi got the Helga Hufflepuff card and Harry got Albus Dumbledore. They were still working their way through the snacks and Ron was trying to turn Scabbers, his rat, yellow, when the door opened to reveal a girl with bushy-brown hair.

"Has anyone seen a toad?" she asked in a bossy sort of voice. "Oh, are you doing magic?" she asked, seeing Ron's wand. Ron waved his wand while saying some ridiculous rhyme about daisies and sunshine, but Scabbers remained a dirty gray.

"Hmm..." said the girl. "I'm not sure that's a real spell. Who told it to you?"

"My older brother. He was probably just having me on," Ron said miserably.

The girl looked sympathetic, then stood to leave and look for the toad. Apparently, Neville, who'd lost the toad, was very upset.

"I'll give you a hand," offered Malachi, knowing he'd be able to find the toad quick enough. He'd smelled one out in the corridor not long ago.

"Thanks."

"No problem." Once they were out in the corridor Malachi introduced himself. "I'm Malachi, by the way."

"Hermione." They slowly made their way down the corridor, looking in compartments and asking if anyone had spotted the toad. Malachi caught the scent and went to a crowded compartment filled with older students.

"I've already checked there," said Hermione.

"Can't hurt to be sure."

"Excuse me, have ya'll seen a toad?" They all answered in the negative. "Mind if I look under the seats?" They shook their heads. A few seconds later Malachi pulled out the reluctant toad. It tried to hop away as soon as he picked it up, but he held it securely. He smiled at Hermione.

"Fantastic," she smiled. "Let's get him to Neville. I think he went toward the head of the train."

They found Neville in the next car and he was ecstatic to be reunited with Trevor, the toad. After introducing himself, Malachi invited them to come back to the compartment with him and Harry and Ron since they were all first years and would likely have classes together. Neville and Hermione agreed and the three made their way to the end of the train. Everyone was introduced and they spent the rest of the train ride happily talking about the magical and muggle worlds. They arrived in no time at all and filed off the train.

Small wooden boats full of anxious eleven-year olds glided effortlessly across the still lake, powered my magic. Before them was the most wonderous and purely _magical_ sight they had ever seen—Hogwarts Castle. The castle practically glowed in the night sky, both with magic and the light of thousands—if no million—of torches and candles. In the moonless night, with innumerable stars glittering in the dark sky, the castle was like a fallen star.

While all the other new Hogwarts students gazed awestruck at the shining castle, one boy's eyes were drawn to another sight. To the left of the traveling students, west of the magnificent castle, was a dark, wild, untamed forest. It practically pulsed with untamed, wild magic. A magic Malachi recognized as the same wild magic that ran through his body and powered his transformations. From the boat he shared with Neville and Harry, he could _feel_ the creatures in that forest. He could hear them and smell them and sense their magic. The Forest was full on all kinds of magical and mysterious creatures and the wildness of it called to his very being. Malachi knew the Forbidden Forest was just that, _forbidden_. But he also knew that he couldn't possibly resist the way it called him, pulled at his magic.

_This should be fun,_ thought the wild boy, mischievously.

Malachi stood nervously with the other cowering first years. They were bunched together, standing before the long head table in the Great Hall at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Malachi, like all the others, was struggling between wondrous excitement and paralyzing fear. It wasn't every day one got to see the inside of a magical castle as grand as Hogwarts. The sight was enough to stun even the most traditional of pure-bloods, when they saw it for the first time. As he looked around, hazel eyes wide with wonder, Malachi almost believed he saw a shimmer of magic coming from the castle itself, almost as if it was welcoming the students back for another year and the first years for the first time.

He only half listened as McGonagall explained how the sorting would work, knowing he'd remember everything she said without really trying. Malachi had spent the remainder of his summer, when he wasn't running around in the woods, reading all about Hogwarts, magic, and the wizarding world. He had read quite a bit on the four Houses of Hogwarts, and, unlike some of the other students he'd met on the train, he honestly had no preference for which house he went in. All four had their merits, and their weaknesses. From the history books he had read, every house had produced both light and dark wizards, both powerful and weak. He had heard several students talking about how 'all Slytherins are evil' or 'Huffelpuffs are just pathetic,' but he disregarded all that as personal preference, mostly among the pure-blood families.

His musings were interrupted when he heard McGonagall's familiar stern voice call out, "Crowley, Malachi."

Moving smoothly through the crowd, Malachi made his way to the little three-legged stool and sat down, facing the students. He breathed in deeply, slowly, forcing himself to relax like his father had taught him. He was almost completely calm when the old ratty black hat was placed on his head and slid down to cover his eyes. He sat in silence for a moment, continuing to breathe deeply, taking in the scent of hundreds of students who had tried on this ancient had before him. He felt a strange, almost tickling sensation in his mind when he suddenly heard a voice.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" asked the strange voice that was neither man nor woman and seemed to be more inside his head than outside. "Another muggle-born. Seeing more of those every year. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, young Mr. Crowley. Please don't panic; I'm mostly harmless."

"You're the hat," Malachi thought loudly, sort of projecting his thoughts as best he knew how. "You're a talking, magical, ancient hat and you're sitting on my head telling me not to panic?"

The hat chuckled. "Not so loud, Mr. Crowley. I can hear you quite well without all that needless shouting. And yes, I am a magical hat, bewitched by Godric Gryffindor himself to sort the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," proclaimed the hat proudly. "Now sit still while I sort through this curious mind of yours." After a moment the hat went on. "Oh! A natural animagus! Wonderful! We've not had one in years here! Don't worry, I won't share your secret. And you are wise to keep it. Difficult times are approaching and you must be careful who you trust."

"Difficult times?" though Malachi, almost forgetting that he was sat on a stool in front of the entire school with a hat covering his eyes.

"A topic for another time, young mage," said the hat distractedly. "Now, you are a difficult one to place. Cunning and sly as a snake, intelligent and clever as a raven, determined and loyal as a badger, and courageous and true as a lion. Oh, yes, you could do well in any House, but I see you have no preference, only a desire to make true friends. You could make those in any House. We need more students like you, Mr. Crowley, who are not blinded by old hatreds and prejudice. Unity is the key to our survival in the difficult times ahead," the hat mused.

Malachi thought for a moment. If unity was what they needed then why even separate the Houses. Maybe there was a way he could help unite the Houses.

"A brilliant idea, Mr. Crowley, but one for another day," said the hat with a soft chuckle. "For now, let's just get you sorted, shall we? Now, where to put you? As I said, you'll do well in any House. Hmmm…I see you made several new friends on the train. A Weasley, Longbottom, and young Mr. Potter. Yes, those are old wizard families. If tradition follows all three will be in Gryffindor. Would you like to be with your new friends?"

Malachi thought it would be cool to be with Ron, Harry, and Neville, and hopefully Hermione too.

"You really think they'll be in Gryffindor?" he asked the strange hat. "What if you're wrong?"

"Wrong!? Me, the Sorting Hat, wrong? Never, in all my years as the designated sorter of young magical minds have I been wrong! It's an outrage!" screamed the Hat in mock anger and indignation.

"Sorry," Malachi thought, halfheartedly. "Gryffindor sounds great."

"Well alright then," whispered the Hat. Then, in a loud booming voice that no one in the Great Hall could possibly fail to hear, it declared: "GRYFFINDOR!"


End file.
